Chapter 9 — Climbing Through the Storm

The section of the route from column 45 to the low-voltage station near the hospital is the most difficult part of the entire recovery journey, not because the technique is more complicated, but because it passes through a high sand dune area, where the post-storm wind is still unusually strong due to the open terrain without anything blocking it.

When Thắng's team arrived at noon, the three pillars on this section were all tilted to varying degrees, and one tree, pillar number 47, had part of its middle body broken, only remaining supported thanks to the inner layer of steel reinforcement that had not been completely broken, hanging at a dangerous angle.

"This tree cannot be climbed up and repaired on the spot," Cả Xuyên spoke as soon as he saw it, his voice was decisive without any hesitation. "The column's body is already weak, bearing the weight of a person can completely break at any time." Thắng walked around the base of the pillar, looked closely at the crack, and nodded in agreement with his friend's assessment.

"It must be lowered in a controlled manner, pulling the temporary rope with the field pole next to it," he said, already starting to calculate the plan in his head. "We don't have spare steel poles anymore. We have to use field wooden poles that we brought with us, which are only enough to temporarily bear the load. Later we have to go back and replace them with permanent poles," He pulled out his walkie-talkie and called the branch to report the situation, and at the same time checked the wind speed with a handheld measuring device, a small tool he always wore on his hip as part of his body during storm duty days.

"The wind is currently at level six, with gusts at level eight in the sand dune area." He read the data, his face slightly frowning. "At height on the pole, the wind is usually one to two levels stronger than the ground because there are no obstacles. That means at the top of the pole, it can be gusting to level nine or ten."

"So can you climb?" Vọng asked, his seat belt ready.

"Internal regulations do not allow climbing high voltage poles when wind gusts are above level eight," Thắng replied, his voice had a tension that the team rarely saw in him. "We're at that boundary."

The whole team stood still for a moment, looking up at the pillars swaying slightly in the wind, then looking at Thắng, waiting for a decision.

"How many hours left for the hospital?" He asked into the walkie-talkie.

"Six hours and thirty minutes." The shift leader replied, her voice as tense as a guitar string. "Doctor Thục just reported that they have reduced the load as much as possible, turning off almost all non-essential lights, but the oil is still running out as expected."

Six hours and thirty minutes, to take down dangerous pole 47, set up a field pole, pull wires through the remaining three poles, and connect to the low voltage station near the hospital. Thắng looked up at the sky, the last clouds of the storm circulation were still lingering on the horizon, not sure if they would dissipate or come back stronger.

"Wait." The final decision took the team a bit by surprise, he said. "We wait thirty minutes, monitoring the wind trend. If the wind drops below steady level eight, we climb. If not, we find another solution."

"What's the other option?" Khánh Thi asked, she was standing next to a pile of tools, still holding a notebook.

"Use a crane with a lifting arm, work from inside the lifting basket instead of climbing directly onto the pole," Thắng replied. "Safer in high winds, but much slower because a crane has to be deployed, and the sand dune terrain makes it difficult for cranes to reach the base of the column."

Thirty minutes passed slowly, each person on the team found something to do so they wouldn't have to stand and watch the countdown timer in vain. Vọng rechecked the pole lowering equipment, Cả Xuyên prepared the field pole, Khánh Thi was assigned the task of continuously monitoring the wind speed with a measuring device, recording data every five minutes in a notebook.

"Level seven." She read the data for the first time.

"Level eight, shock level nine." She read it a second time, ten minutes later, her voice lowered slightly because the number went in the wrong direction.

Thắng stood next to her, looking at the measuring device. His face showed no clear emotions, only his eyes were constantly calculating.

"Level six, shock level seven." The third measurement, twenty minutes later, the number finally tilted in favor.

"It's decreasing," Thắng said, a bit of relief entering his voice. "Measure one more time, if this trend continues, let's start."

The last measurement resulted in a stable level of six, with no more than level seven jerks for five minutes of continuous observation. Thắng nodded and decided.

"Start working," he said, his voice firmly familiar again. "But monitor the wind continuously throughout the process. If it rises above level eight at any time, everyone will come down immediately, without arguing, without waiting to complete the unfinished step."

"Clear." The whole team responded in unison, and the tense atmosphere shifted to a different kind of concentration, the kind of concentration of people who knew they were working within a narrow safety box, with no room for error.

The first thing is to safely lower the hanging pole 47, not letting it collapse suddenly during the operation. Thắng and Vọng tied steel cables to the upper body of the column, stretching them in opposite directions with a hand winch, creating a balanced system before cutting off the remaining steel reinforcement.

"Slowly, keeping tension on both sides evenly." Thắng gave the order, standing in a position where he could observe the entire movement of the column. "Vọng, cut each small piece, not all at once."

Vọng used a specialized iron saw to cut short cuts into the reinforcement, stopping to check after each cut to make sure the column was still stable by the cable system. The sound of saws hissed intermittently, mixing with the sound of the wind still whistling softly through the gaps in the cracked column.

"There's still a little bit left." Echoing the news, sweat dripped from his chin onto the sand below.

"Prepare to take down," Thắng said, signaling two workers to stand and hold the winch rope ready to gradually loosen it.

When the final saw cut it completely, the upper body of column 47 slowly tilted down under the controlled pull of the cable system, falling slowly onto the sand instead of collapsing suddenly as it might have done if not handled properly. A cloud of sand and dust rose up when the column touched the ground, then settled, leaving a void where before the danger had hung in the air for more than an hour.

"The hardest part is done," Cả Xuyên said, relieved, even though he knew there was still a lot of work ahead.

The group of workers quickly built a field pole made of wood soaked in rot-proof oil right next to the old pole position, buried it deep and inserted stones around the base of the pole to increase stability. Although everyone understood that this was only a temporary solution, it needed to be replaced with a solid pole within the next few weeks according to technical procedures.

Thắng prepares his straps, checking each padlock more closely than usual, a habit that veteran workers still keep even after checking thousands of times before, because they understand that it is subjectivity that is the most dangerous enemy, not inexperience.

"You come with me this time," he said to Khánh Thi, making her look up in surprise.

"Child?"

"It's not about taking down column 47, I'm doing that with Vọng," he explained. "But after the lowering is complete, someone needs to help ground near the top of the field pole when wiring. That position is not too high, about eighteen meters, and I want you to have more practical experience before we encounter higher poles."

Khánh Thi looked up at the field pole about to be erected, looked at the sky that still had a few gray clouds moving quickly, then looked back at Thắng, who was waiting for her answer without prompting.

"I'm ready," she spoke, and this time, there was no trembling in her voice of someone trying to hide her fear, there was only real determination, although the fear was still there, it just didn't stand alone anymore.

Before the two started climbing, Thắng radioed back to the dispatch center again, confirming the power cut status of the line, even though it had been confirmed since the morning, because the rule he always followed was to never assume a safe state was still intact after a long period of time without checking again.

"Dispatch center, confirm the power cut status of column 45 to the hospital low voltage station," he spoke into the walkie-talkie.

"Confirmed, the power is still being cut off, no changes yet." The voice of the shift leader responded immediately.

"Receive, prepare to climb the pole," Thắng replied, put the walkie-talkie in his chest pocket, turned to Khánh Thi one last time before they both started climbing up the field pole that still smelled of new wood and anti-rot oil.

"Remember what I taught you," he spoke, his voice serious but not tense. "Three points of contact, move one part at a time, and if I say get down, you get down without asking why."

"I remember," she replied, put the belt back on for the last time, tightened the strap of the helmet, then set foot on the first step of the new pillar, following Thắng on a journey that they both knew would not be simple.

At the foot of the column, Cả Xuyên stood on duty as a safety monitor, never taking his eyes off the two figures slowly climbing up, holding a walkie-talkie in his hand, ready for any situation that might occur in the next minutes.